


I Am Slow To Anger, But You've Crossed This Line

by CaughtAlwaysSleeping



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Blood, Fighting, both of them are dicks but this isn't news, but its 1000 words so yay!, car crash, inbred used as insult, kinda venty for me i dunno if it's actually good or not, mentions of depression, thomas fucks alex up big time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-30 20:22:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10884264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaughtAlwaysSleeping/pseuds/CaughtAlwaysSleeping
Summary: Sort of modern/college AU,,, Thomas is kinda a dick but Hamilton takes it too far and gets his ass handed to him //// (also bhfdjaknvj this title sucks lmao)





	I Am Slow To Anger, But You've Crossed This Line

Everything that dastardly Alexander did or said was with the intent to rile Jefferson up. He knew it. Who in the world could possibly be that level of annoying without trying?

Thomas was raised to keep his cool though. He fights with words, not fists. And while Alexander constantly had a plethora of things to say he was too pointed, too sure of himself and would bark at anything not in line with his opinions until whoever said it gave up.

This is why arguments between the two would spiral on and on for hours at a time. It was almost cathartic for both of them, both of them playing tug of war with their argument until someone stepped in or one of them lost their voice. They were almost intellectual equals, and a rivalry was bound to follow. They would come crashing together like comets, both doing anything it took to be better or smarter than the other. Such was life.

At the end of the day, they were both still smoldering, going to their homes for the night before coming back together and roaring to an enormous fire the next day. No matter how many dousings each of them took they still burned red hot and would spark to life at even the mention of the other. Alexander would preach about how despicable Thomas was to anyone who would lend him an ear, while Thomas preferred to say what he thought to the others face.

One day though Alexander goes too far. He, in desperation, goes for a low blow. And it backfires, significantly. If he thought Jefferson was passionate before he was sorely mistaken.

Alexander was sitting at his lunch table, setting down his papers and books before settling himself down on a seat. He opens his backpack and takes out his medication, an antidepressant he's had a prescription for since thirteen when his mother died, swallowing it with a soda he pulls out of the same compartment. Before he can put the rattling bottle away though, it's plucked out of his hands by none other than Jefferson.

"Hey! Give that back!" He yells, slapping the arm that Jefferson has pressed against Alexanders chest to keep him off while he inspects the label.

"Antidepressants Alex?" Jefferson smirks. "Are you okay?" He asks as if Alexander is a baby who needs to be coddled.

"Give it back!" Alex growls, getting himself ready to pounce on Jefferson if he doesn't return his medication. Why couldn't this dick leave him alone for one day? Why did he always have to get in the middle of Alexanders shit and make fun of him? He's nothing but a bully who pays his way through life instead of working for anything like Alex has to.

"You Alexander? Someone as loud and obnoxious as you doesn't need these. You don't look depressed." Jefferson scoffs, getting ready to throw them with his long strong arms just so Alexander has to go fetch them. What a wonderful sight that will be, Alexander, scrambling in the bushes, getting all dirty.

"I don't have to explain myself to you! We'll see if you need them after your girlfriend dies in ICU!" Alexander screams.

All movements cease. Jefferson's grip on the bottle goes slack, they fall to the floor with a rattle of protest. Alexander pounces on them and hurries to push them back in his bag. He zips it up and throws his bag on the ground so Thomas can't reach it.

Thomas's girlfriend. In ICU, critical condition, from a car accident only a few days prior. They had been on their morning jog together when a car ran through a red light, hitting Martha and just barely missing Thomas. Had he not called 911 immediately she would already be dead. Now she's in a medically induced coma, barely hanging on to life. Alex had no right to be talking about Jeffersons sweet, dear Martha. Alex is lucky that Thomas hasn't the mind to throw back something about his mother.

"Take it back." His voice is dangerously controlled. "If you know what's good for you, take it back."

"God, I wish the car hit you instead. It would have been better for everyone if it did." Alex blurts out.

The next thing Alexander feels is Jefferson's fist against his cheek, followed by the jarring feeling of his head hitting the pavement. His brain aches from the rough connection, though he's pretty sure he doesn't have a concussion.

"Don't you think I fucking know that?!" Jefferson screams, grabbing the smaller by his shirt collar and pulling him up to punch him again. Alex grabs hold of Jefferson's arm, he doesn't want to fall back to the hard ground again. "Don't you think I fucking /wish/ it was me?!"

Alexander makes the very large mistake of laughing. He's finally gotten a rise out of this stupid fucking southern inbred. Jefferson sees red as his fist silences Alexanders glee with one, two, three more punches to the face. Alexanders nose cracks and starts leaking a lazy river of blood. Two of Thomas' fingers crack with the intensity of his punches. He keeps going five, six, seven total punches. Alex's lip busts open and he can't be sure but he thinks he may have knocked out a tooth.

His rage blinds him to the pain, and he would have kept punching Alexanders poor excuse for a face of someone hadn't grabbed him by the arm and shouted, "Stop! You're gonna kill him!"

He looks down at Alex's face, bloodied from his nose and a split lip. It's dripping down his face and getting on his shirt, it coats Thomas' fist. Alexanders breathing is loud and labored, wheezy. Thomas has clearly won this argument.

Thomas focuses on calming down while the girl who held him back eases Alex from his grip. "Grab his stuff. We're going to the hospital on campus." She demands. When Thomas doesn't follow the order she says it again with more force. Thomas throws Alexanders backpack over his shoulders and pulls all the books and papers into a pile to carry, finally subdued, satisfied. He follows behind the girl as she carries Alex in the direction of the hospital.

That ought to teach Alexander that he has no right to talk about Thomas' sweet Martha.


End file.
